


Hear Me Sing And Weep

by soulmate328



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And Robert being Robert, Before Rhaegar's Marriage, Crush at First Sight, M/M, Out of Character, Rare Pairings, Robert being like a maid in front of the prince, Tournament at Storm's End, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26496310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328
Summary: "It is my pleasure to be here in my father's stead. I shall sing at the feast tonight.""What sorts of song are you going to sing? They told me you compose.""My songs are mostly sad ones, unfitting to sing in this occasion. What do you suggest?""The Bear and the Maiden Fair?"
Relationships: Robert Baratheon/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Hear Me Sing And Weep

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [听我一曲落泪](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895827) by [soulmate328](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328). 



They welcomed the royal procession at the front gate of Storm's End. When the Crown Prince approached them in slow, steady steps, Robert had felt a punch in his stomach squeezed out all the air in his lungs. If the maidens gasped as they stared at the prince, then Robert had received a mortal wound in a melee. Rhaegar Targaryen was three or four years older than him, at the same height as Robert, but more slender. Barristan Selmy and Gerold Hightower flanked him at the sides, like his two pale shadows. His flowing locks were blond as molten gold beneath the sun, and white as pure silver in the shadows; those violet eyes were melancholy and determined, as if they were seeing through the grief of a thousand years. Rhaegar was pale and delicate, but his beauty was handsome enough to be still masculine. Robert used to scoff at the dragonlords in the legends, considering them no different than average men besides their talent of taming dragons. But looking at Rhaegar Targaryen, he could easily picture the prince stroking the head of a dragon, casual but with a bearing that denys the approach of mortals.

"Lord Steffon," Rhaegar inclined his head.

Steffon Baratheon greeted the prince with a gracious smile. "Welcome, my prince! You will find the hospitality of Storm's End no less warm than the Dornish sun."

Rhaegar smile, just a slight lift of the corners of his mouth, but enough to make Robert swoon at the side. Since when did he become one of those maids who dream about knights and princes all day long?

"Thank you for your generosity, my lord," said Rhaegar. "May all the knights that arrived here receive their glory."

Robert felt that he wouldn't allow the Crown Prince's blessing to come true, for he would surely beat up the arses of everyone who dared challenge him in the melee, to earn the right of having Rhaegar settle the laurel on the champion's head with his own hands.

Steffon started introducing his children to the prince one by one. The first, of course, was Robert who was the firstborn. "This is Robert, my prince. My son and heir."

"Great pleasure meeting you."

"My prince," Robert bowed, and this had Stannis glanced at him with strange eyes; Robert was rarely this behaved. In truth, Robert thought that he better not do anything at all, so that the fact that he was obsessed with the prince wouldn't be discovered. He only knew to take the people he like to bed, and he certainly couldn't do that to Rhaegar.

... Could he? Robert contemplated as he chewed his mouthful of chicken. He had never tried to conceal his affairs, since he considered hiding something beneath him. But if was for the prince, perhaps he could do it once? Robert couldn't imagine how one could hide something like fucking, but he had the feeling that if he didn't sleep with Rhaegar this time, he might live in regret for the rest of his life.

The tournament went on for days, and though Robert was unhorsed by Ser Barristan on jousting, he claimed the championship of the melee as he intended to. Covered in wounds, blood and mud, Prince Rhaegar set the laurel of solid gold on his head just like what he had imagined. A crown of violet bellflowers was placed into his hand, the crown of love and beauty; he thought the color would suit Rhaegar's eyes perfectly, and even cast an expecting glance towards the prince. But eventually he forsook the plan and gave the crown to his mother - he may be carrying an armful of tokens from maidens, but he was an engaged man.

Robert finally had more chances to speak with Rhaegar at the following feast. He dressed himself up in black breeches and shirt, with a sleeveless doublet made of golden silk, trimmed his beard, and walked towards the prince across the garden of Storm's End. Rhaegar's raiments were the same indigo as his eyes, and when Robert approached he turned towards the young lord, with a friendly smile on his fair face.

"Congratulations, Lord Robert. Your skill on the hammer is unequaled. Of course, jousting also presents test to many knightly qualities, but you are no doubt born to fight. What they say about the valor of stormlanders are true."

"Ah, I like the last one! I've been sticking with my father's men since I was a little boy, and I know pretty damn well that any of the lords don't stand a chance against some of them, if only they were born in some noble house!" Robert laughed. "Come, my prince! It's your first time in Storm's End, let me show you around."

When Orys Baratheon became Lord of Storm's End, he took the words and sigil of House Durron, so the decoration of Storm's End hadn't changed much across these centuries. The annular garden was full of galloping stone stags and common wildflowers in the rainforests of stormland, and the pleasant sight eased the melancholy on the prince's brows. Their conversation was mostly about their opponents at the tournaments; Robert cursed and praised the Red Viper of Dorne, and Rhaegar told him the funny stories that took place when he was taught swordsmanship by Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold.

"I haven't learned to use a sword for very long, in truth," said Rhaegar. "It started only when I was already a teen. Before that, I preferred books and music than swords."

"Not a common thing to turn from the latter to the former. What made you suddenly decide to become a warrior?"

Rhaegar hesitated for a moment and smiled. "Well, one day I will be king, and valor is a valuable quality. Aenys Targaryen was scoffed at for his mediocrity in skills at arms, and Daeron II was considered lesser than Daemon Blackfyre because he did not fight. If I will inherit my father's throne, I must prove to the lords that I'm worthy of following."

"Bunch of morons. I won't be reading and playing the harp all day, but even I know that I'll be a terrible king. You are a dragon, Your Grace, there's no need to bother yourself with the thoughts of others."

Rhaegar's eyes lit up just a little. "I never took you for a man of flattery, my lord."

"I am not. Beneath me, those thing are!"

"Even if you say so, I suppose you still don't want your future king to be a book worm?" Rhaegar laughed softly. "If I haven't learned how to use a sword, I couldn't have the opportunity to come here today and meet all these noble and valiant knights."

Noble and valiant knights. Robert's heart pounded. His valor was beyond doubt, but it would be a tremendous mistake to describe Robert Baratheon as noble in any way. He didn't really care about being noble or not, since he quite like that newborn daughter he had in the Vale. But just right now he was getting impatient; he never took more than a day to get a woman in his bed, but it had been several days since he first met Rhaegar Targaryen.

"It is my pleasure to be here in my father's stead. I shall sing at the feast tonight."

"What sorts of song are you going to sing? They told me you compose."

"My songs are mostly sad ones, unfitting to sing in this occasion. What do you suggest?"

" _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_?"

His heartbeat halted the moment the words came out of him. It was true that this song was popular among both the commons and the nobles, but it simply didn't match with the prince's bearing. But when Rhaegar heard him, for the first time he laughed like he was truly happy. "Suggestion accepted."

And the prince did sing _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ at the feast. His voice was bright and rhythmic like the sound of waves Robert could hear from the tower of Storm's End. People laughed and danced to the prince's song, while kept spilling the Dornish Red into the air and kissing maids that passed him by and exchanging looks and smiles with the prince on the stage. When the fun part was over, Rhaegar sang a song of his own composition, a sadder one about Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys. The maidens wept like the rumors said, and Robert just stared at Rhaegar's fingers plucking the silver strings, his long white lashes, his rosy lips. Robert realized clearly at that moment that not a single soul in this world would be more beautiful than Rhaegar Targaryen, men and women likewise.

Rhaegar lifted his gaze upon finishing the song, violet crushing into blue, plucking the strings of heart with invisible fingers. Robert wanted to pull the prince up from his seat and carry him all the way to his chamber in Storm's End. He wanted to see that indigo robe falling from the prince's shoulders, silver-gold spreading on the silken pillow, flowing with honey just like the maid in the song. And he would kiss the hair like the bear, and dancing with the pale beautiful prince in the sheets.

He did not. But Robert knew that the prince had read his thoughts, for when he said his farewell upon his departure from Storm's End, those violet eyes were shimmering with a passionate sorrow, and those lips were parted by the slightly heavier breaths.

"I hope we will have the chance to meet again, my lord," said Rhaegar expectantly.

"We will," Robert patted his shoulder, pretending it was an embrace, smelled his hair pretending it was kiss. And he watched the prince mounted the white stallion, galloping away with the dragon banner in his hand.


End file.
